


A Hundred Paths from Zedelghem to London

by thisisntandrei



Category: Cloud Atlas (2012), Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
Genre: Fluff, I'd tag the moon but I don't think that counts as a character, M/M, ah well, angst and other things to come later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-23 01:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisntandrei/pseuds/thisisntandrei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hundred moments from the eternally entwined relationship of Robert Frobisher and Rufus Sixsmith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hundred Paths from Zedelghem to London

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this 100 prompt challenge: http://www.fanfiction.net/topic/113117/67262048/1/

In the eyes of the moon there is no judgment. She sees all, remaining ever-vigilant, keeping watch from her lofty post. On this night her gaze falls upon the Mediterranean island of Corsica and its sandy shores. She reaches her pale arms down to lay her hands on the earth, caressing the waters that gently lap onto slopes of sand.

The night is calm and peaceful. Her touch travels from sea to sand, skimming over the powder-fine surface.

Her roaming gaze comes to halt on two figures seated by a bonfire. One of them, a blonde-haired young man no older than nineteen, flops back into the sand and folds his hands behind his head. The other, a slightly younger dark-haired boy, turns to his left towards the blonde one and shifts his weight to his elbow.

A casual glance becomes interest when the blonde one begins to point out various patterns in the night sky. It never ceases to amaze her how humans see her random arrangement of stars, a smattering of glistening orbs in the heavens, and decide they create images, telling legends and stories to explain their origins. The blonde one, tracing a line in the sky with an index finger, is retelling the legend of Perseus with hand gesture and furrowed brow. The dark-haired boy appears to be only half listening. Instead he seems to be watching the other boy as he talks and talks, his lips forming a fond smile.

The blonde boy finishes his story and his voice trails off, leaving the two of them in a still quiet, gazing up at the Corsican sky.

The moon is about to move along on her nightly watch when yet another unexpected happening occurs. The dark-haired boy is leaning towards the blonde boy, his face hovering only inches away. He says something that makes a wide grin spread across the blonde one’s face. For a moment there is another still quiet, this time filled with the hesitations and uncertainties of whatever lay unsaid between them. The dark-haired boy’s face hovers even closer now as he cautiously presses his lips to the lips of the blonde boy.

When he pulls back, the blonde boy places his hand on the other boy’s cheek and grins. He says something that elicits a full laugh from both of them. Then they bring their lips together again, meeting in the middle this time.

All of this the moon looks on with a certain sadness as she lifts her hands from the ocean shore to continue her trek. Judgment she may not pass herself, but of others’ judgments she understands. Love is love yet what is one that cannot be expressed to the world?

But the night is still young and the forces of nature do carry on. The moon sees many loves come and go. Perhaps this is one to last, perhaps not. Though having observed them for millennia, she is still yet to understand the ways of humans’ hearts and souls.


End file.
